


Because

by Twisted_Mind



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alive Allison Argent & Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Angst, Drabble Sequence, Especially Peter, Everyone Needs A Hug, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Peter Hale, Peter Feels, Peter is a secret marshmallow, Peter-centric, Pregnancy Scares, References to Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 05:12:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9804011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/pseuds/Twisted_Mind
Summary: Five times people invaded Peter's personal space, and one time he hugs someone else.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks on this one go to Nightell, Aminias, DenaCeleste and to SlasherFiend for the help while writing. And a big thank you to Aminias, King of the TWT, for starting this movement. PETER NEEDS ALL THE HUGS, DAMNIT. 
> 
> In other news: I'm about to be very busy because I'm moving soon! Yay! So this might be the last fic you see from me for a couple months. 
> 
> Happy Friday!

 

It starts when he saves the littlest huntress. An act that is _entirely_ selfish in nature, because one, he likes killing things; and two, the last thing this pack of incompetents needs is another grief-mad Argent out for blood.

When Christopher strides toward him the next day, he wonders if he should be alarmed. He stands his ground—only to wish he _had_ fled when Chris wraps both arms around his shoulders, sliding their stubbled cheeks together. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t move. “It wasn’t because I—”

Chris squeezes tighter. “I don’t care why you did it. My daughter’s alive today.”

 

 

When Erica shows up to the next pack meeting in a tasteful sundress and her leopard-print heels, Lydia mutters, “I could hug whoever took her shopping,” under her breath.

He smirks. “Doubtful.”

“It was you?” Her eyes narrow when he nods. “I could hug you anyway.”

She says it challengingly, and he grimaces. “Please don’t.”

She sidles up to him and curls an arm around his waist. He struggles to allow it. She notices. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“Yes.”

(Probably not for the reason she thinks. It feels like forgiveness, and he’ll never get that from her, doesn’t even want it.)

 

 

He doesn’t expect the knock on his apartment door. He is _gobsmacked_ to see baby Argent there, tear-stained.

Then he sees Stiles behind her, and it makes sense. “Get in here.”

As soon as the door shuts, she’s babbling, “I might be pregnant, and it might be a werewolf, and I’m terrified. Stiles said I should come to you because—”

He stops her right there to explain that werewolves come into their gifts at puberty, and she isn’t pregnant anyway. Wrong hormone profile. (Thank you, Talia.)

She throws herself at him, clinging and sobbing. He pats her back awkwardly.

 

 

He does _not_ want to do this. But if he doesn’t, the guilt might legitimately kill his nephew, so he swallows his distaste.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Derek looks at him, confused. “Paige’s body rejecting the bite, Kate, the fire. Laura choosing to leave me behind.”

Derek freezes, and he makes his voice as soft as the child his nephew used to be. “None of it was your fault, and I forgive you.”

Derek stumbles over and collapses against his chest. He holds on, holds steady as the young man shakes and cries. He doesn’t stop repeating, “It wasn’t your fault.”

 

 

He waits, speaking up when she sheds her clothing as she slips through the trees. “It won’t help.”

Malia turns, eyes flashing. “It’s better than staying.”

“It’s not.” She snarls, and he raises an eyebrow. “You can’t outrun loss.”

“I don’t have to live in the middle of it, either,” she spits.

He’ll give her that. “No.”

She glares. “Then why should I stay?”

His smile tastes bitter. “Because it hurts less than being alone.”

She cocks her head, calculating, before wrapping herself around him. He holds her back. “This doesn’t mean I like you.”

His grip tightens. “I know.”

 

 

Stiles is pacing, jittery, so far past hyper-focussed that he isn’t processing anymore. It’s not surprising—they have Scott. Peter would be surprised if his boy _wasn’t_ flipping out.

Still. This? This isn’t productive. Stiles is no good to anyone like this.

So he stops the pacing with a hand on Stiles’s arm before sliding up it to cradle the mole-dotted neck. He sees the fear warring with gratitude, and murmurs, “It’s going to be alright.” Stiles melts, hiding his face, and lets Peter hold him, scent him, kiss his temple.

He says it again, heartbeat steady against Stiles’s cheek.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Also! Take note: there is an awesome event running, the TW Rarepair Charity Auction! I have signed up, and I would appreciate it if you could spread the word! [Link!](https://twrarepairauction.tumblr.com/)


End file.
